


Reels & Jigs

by lemonsharks



Series: Wildcards [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Almost Kiss, Banter, F/M, Flirting, Halamshiral, Happy Ending, signs of affection meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsharks/pseuds/lemonsharks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simeon Trevelyan plots ways to get thrown out of the Orlesian Winter Palace and Cassandra, despite herself, is deeply amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reels & Jigs

**Author's Note:**

> * Signs of Affection #6 - A Whisper.  
> 
> * [Snarky Mages Worldstate](http://www.lemonsharks.net/post/124114259728/snarky-mages-worldstate-cecily-amell-elia-hawke)  
> 

Simeon’s jaw ached from every smart remark he’d bitten back this evening, and his _head_ ached from every pleasant lie he’d told. On his last round through the ballroom, Yvette Montilyet had slipped a small, engraved flask into his pocket, with a clever smile and a low-voiced scold from her sister. His neck _itched_ , beneath the starched collar, and every whisper that reached his ear stuck and clung to him like a burr.

He’d gone and gotten used to the blessed lack of subterfuge. To a life filled with ordinary people who wanted to take him at his word and the elevated company he gave no recourse or option _other_ than to take him at his word.

But Ostwick had never done realpolitik with the same gusto as Orlais. The glib humor that had won him so many friends in the Circle was getting him precisely nowhere here.

He ran his thumbnail along the etching on the flask. It was highly stylized, possibly Yvette’s own handiwork, and he blessed the girl for the timeliness of the gift.

Truly, it was a wonder he hadn’t stabbed anyone with a decorative _fork_. Simeon found Cassandra where he’d left her. She was leaning against the banister and studiously ignoring the knot of masked women gossiping behind her.

He spoke on his approach, scattering the gossips in his wake. "What would it take, I wonder, to get us expelled from the court entirely?“

Simeon mimicked her posture, arms folded over the railing, scanning the stairwell below for new threats or _useful_ snatches of conversation. Cassandra made a noise in the back of her throat—the ones that meant, _you do not want to know what I actually think_ —and shifted closer to him.

"I might lead you out onto the floor right now, before it opens for dancing,” he said. “Would a reel be enough? Or should we go with a nice jig? I learned several from my more pastoral friends in the Cir—”

“You would not dare,” she said, swatting him lightly on the arm.

Simeon caught her hand in his, and kissed the ball of her thumb with dry lips. It drew the barest sort of smile from her, small and private and precious. He let her go, then, and and turned back toward the loiterers.

“I wouldn’t, you’re right. Not with so much at stake,” he said, then lowered his voice so none could hear what he told her next. “I did find a very nice alcove and I’ve been thinking about ravishing you in it all evening.”

“ _You_ are incorrigible,” she murmured.

 _Now_ he’d raised a proper blush. And she was smiling wickedly, like she might actually take him up on his offer.

Simeon spoke directly into Cassandra’s ear, now. “I can stop at _any time_ , you know. Just say the word and I’ll go back to—”

And oh, he’d fought beside her and practiced with her enough that he ought to have known all Cassandra’s tells by heart. Quick as if she’d just lunged a demon, Cassandra had got his face between her hands, pulled him down, and did not actually kiss him.

“Stop wasting time,” Cassandra said. She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, and Simeon shivered at the touch.

“Oh, I don’t know that I’d call this _wasting_ time. I’m enjoying it all quite a bit. Have we been thrown out, yet?” he asked, when he finally made himself pull back.

She did not answer, but the sound she made was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

The court managed to avert its collective gaze _judgmentally_. He hadn’t thought that was possible.

“What if I—”

“No,” Cassandra replied, eyes twinkling.

He sighed. She glanced from masked face to masked face with her chin up and her jaw set.

“You know,” Simeon said, “I generally like _Orlesians_ just fine. It’s _Orlais_ I haven’t got the hang of, yet. Don’t forget you owe me the dance, while I’m away chasing down statues of _halla._ ”


End file.
